


Order II: A Roman Holiday

by shslducktective



Series: "king and lionheart" [5]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shslducktective/pseuds/shslducktective
Summary: as armies clash, provoking the collapse of the foundation of humanity, lord el-melloi ii and alexander iii share a separate peace(this fic takes place during the septem singularity)





	Order II: A Roman Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this because the internet needs more wholesome lem2/alexander content. enjoy.

“You know, you kind of look like Bucephalus,” Alexander III remarked, smushing the sides of his fellow Heroic Spirit’s face between his weathered palms. It was an innocent observation, of course, but that didn't stop the Caster known as Lord El-Melloi II from taking it poorly.

“What the bloody hell does that mean?”

Caster's muffled bark was accompanied by what was supposed to be a scowl, but his attempt at intimidation failed to be anything more than silly thanks to his cheeks and lips being compressed by the Rider’s disproportionately large hands. With the back of Alexander's head resting on El-Melloi II’s lap, the former had the most amusing view. Looking up at Caster’s double chin and squished lips, the Macedonian prince couldn't help but chuckle.

“It means what I said,” Rider responded plainly. “Your features are similar. It's cute.”

El-Melloi II’s cheeks heated under Rider's palms. He desperately wanted to look away to hide his blush, but it was impossible to turn his head, and he was backed against the wall of their shared tent. For such a short young man, Rider had an iron grip, one that El-Melloi II knew could only be compared to that of his older self.

“That's ridiculous. I-I don't get it.”

Alexander sighed and folded his hands over his abdomen, freeing the strategist's face. “You really do lack an imagination, Mr. Zhuge Liang.”

Caster's scowl deepened into a cringe at the sound of Rider using that title for what felt like the hundredth time since they had found each other. In all actuality, it had only been three times.

“If I had no imagination, I wouldn’t have been able to become a pseudo Heroic Spirit, and I thought I told you to stop calling me that. It's grating.”

“What should I call you, then? Lord El-Melloi II is too long,” Alexander grumbled, shifting his head and legs around until he felt comfortable. Once he was situated, he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand and exhaled deeply. The Roman summer heat was insufferable, even under the shade of a tent. Alexander knew the heat of such a summer well, albeit by a different name.

“You’d be surprised by the number of people who shorten it by leaving off the end,” Caster huffed, mostly complaining to himself. When Rider gave him a confused look, he coughed into his fist and returned the original subject. “You can call me 'professor’ for now. If that title is to your liking, of course.”

The prince grinned. “Yes! I like that quite a bit, actually. Having a scholar for a partner is ideal.”

Caster blushed again. This time, he was able to look away, but it did nothing to hide his reddening cheeks from the adoring gaze below.

“You’re flattering me. Didn't I promise to be your strategist?”

“You did,” Alexander agreed cheerfully. “My Luck parameters truly must be high to have found you by chance, professor. It must have been fate.”

"R-Rider,” El-Melloi II started, but he paused after realizing that his voice had cracked. “Um. Weren't you going to explain how I look like your horse?”

The Macedonian prince’s eyes widened. “Oh, right!” He laughed, hearty and youthful. Even though his laughter was tinny as a prince who had yet to become king, it still carried the same force and impact that Caster remembered from the older Rider he had summoned so long ago.

“Well,” Alexander started, “your face is long, like a horse’s. So is your nose. It's all flat until the end where it sticks out a bit.” He poked the tip of Caster’s nose for emphasis, causing the strategist to fluster. “Your hair is dark and silky, too. Just like Bucephalus. It's pretty.” He moved his right hand to the side of Caster’s pinkened face — caressing the strategist's cheek with the heel of his palm as he ran his fingers through the strands of hair framing the strategist’s face.

“I think the most interesting feature you have in common is your eyes, though,” Rider concluded. “Your eyes are dark and clouded, like you're always staring into the distance and thinking about something no one understands.” He paused and began to gesture. “I feel like I can always tell what you're looking at, though. It's the same with Bucephalus. People always say that it makes him unapproachable — that they can't tell what he's staring at — but I can tell. I've always been good with horses, but no horse could replace Bucephalus.”

Alexander stopped rambling and flailing his hands around when he noticed El-Melloi II’s expression. The latter's eyes had widened, and his lips were slightly agape. Unfortunately, the prince couldn't tell if he was amazed, upset, or anything in between.

“Oh, sorry if that was weird,” Rider backtracked with a nervous laugh. He looked away, shifting his gaze from Caster’s face to the peak of the tent, and returned his hands to their folded pose above his waist. “I get way too excited when I talk about Bucephalus. I just have so much to say.”

“I-Idiot. It's not. Weird, I mean,” Caster spluttered, waving his hands in front of his chest dismissively. He had never expected Rider to act self-conscious, and it made him feel as if something were seriously wrong. Waver _knew_ Rider, and he knew that no Macedonian king with his kind of ideals should ever feel bad about drawing attention to himself and his words. True, not everyone appreciated Rider’s boisterous personality and unwarranted input during the Fourth Holy Grail War, but it was something that always attracted El-Melloi II. Even if it _had_ infuriated him it at times. “It's only natural for you to talk about the things that interest you. You're… you know… the kind of person who makes everyone want to listen.”

“Really? You're the first scholar to tell me something like that, professor. Common soldiers always say that they find my conversation interesting, but that’s to be expected. Aristotle used to tell me that I talk too much. He always believed that if you talk too much or too little, no one will respect you.”

Caster offered a bittersweet smile, understanding Rider's experience all too well. “Ah,” he began, “I had an instructor who used to tell me the same thing. That prat was nothing but an arsehole to me when I was his student, all because he happened to have an ideal lineage.” Taking a breath, the strategist hesitated, and his expression shifted into a look of remorse. “Even still... I think, deep down, that old git was actually... a good person.”

Alexander’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What makes you say that?”

Noticing that his face was warming up again, El-Melloi II looked away and can started to tug at the grass underneath his fingers to distract himself. It was so difficult to stay cool and composed when the summer weather was already so hot.

“Well, um... After he died, I was tasked with translating and organizing all of the writings he had left behind. Most of his writings were thaumaturgical, but I also found... love letters written to his fiancee. That old sap wrote her one every morning. From what I could tell, at least.”

Caster inhaled and prepared himself to continue. He rarely ever enjoyed talking about this sort of thing, but he found that it was much easier than the last time when he was talking to Alexander.

“He… His letters implied that he was unsure of whether or not she even loved him back, but he remained patient in his affections towards her.” A brief moment of hesitation. “As far as I could tell, he would've waited an eternity for her to return his love, if that's what it would've taken.”

Another pause, followed by nervous laughter.

“...Uh, maybe that doesn't necessarily make him a good person,” El-Melloi II admitted sheepishly, “but I respect that about him, looking back.”

At this point, the strategist's palms were full of uprooted grass. He didn't know how Rider would react, and that made him was nervous. Of course, Rider always encouraged others to chase after selfish wishes, no matter how unattainable or unrealistic they were, but what if he were to ridicule? What if he were to say that such dedication to only one person was silly? It wouldn't the first time Rider had looked down on someone's wish for being too small and unambitious. Caster didn't know if he would be able to bear facing that same sort of ridicule again, especially from Rider's younger incarnation.

“Oh… That's so romantic,” Alexander sighed, drawing El-Melloi II out of his worries with a dreamy cadence. His gaze drifted as he pondered — from the pointy tip of the strategist's chin, to tent’s goatskin walls, to the grass below, to the horizon outside. Looking out at the setting sun, Rider and Caster found themselves sharing a separate peace.

Eventually, Alexander broke the silence with a yawn. El-Melloi II watched, smiling softly, as the prince stretched and rolled onto his side, turning away to face the sunset.

“Professor?” Rider murmured drowsily.

“Hm?”

“I keep imagining how wonderful it would be... if someone were to be that unwavering in their affection for me.”

Rider had spoken in a barely audible mumble, but Caster had heard every word, loud and clear. It was as if, somehow, those words had bypassed his ears and struck him straight in the heart, leaving him with a heavy feeling in his chest and a racing pulse. There were a million things he wanted to say, a million things he had been wanting to say for decades, a million things he had literally died to say, but it seemed impossible to put any of them into words.

“I would. For you,” El-Melloi II finally confessed in an almost-whisper, closing his eyes as the words left his lips. His hands were trembling, but he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice. “ _I have been. For so long, everything I've done has been for you_ ,” was what he wanted to add, but such a powerful revelation was hardly appropriate. The foundation of humanity was fragile enough, already.

“Rider…?”

Alexander's only response was a muffled snore. Caster chuckled sadly to himself, realizing that any confession would have fallen on deaf ears. Of course, he should have known. An opportunity such as this was too good to be true, and Rider could barely remember the bond they had once shared, anyway.

Left to enjoy the fading sunset alone, Lord El-Melloi II leaned back against the wall of the tent and let his own tiredness overcome him. Tomorrow would be a long day, and the day after that would probably never come for Heroic Spirits who had no place in this world.

“Sleep well, my dear prince.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. follow me on twitter @shslducktective for overenthusiastic waverposting.


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